


Fleabag Symphony

by Gigglepud



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Gen, M/M, VEFET, and then i just gave up, and winged it, izaya plays violin, shizuo is the stage door keeper, you have no idea how long i spent thinking of a title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigglepud/pseuds/Gigglepud
Summary: The au where Shizuo works at the stage door, and Izaya is the concertmaster of the local orchestra. Unfortunately, this means having to deal with that fleabag's irritating smug face on a regular basis.





	Fleabag Symphony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrepidationChance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrepidationChance/gifts).



> Written for VEFET (Valentines' Eve Fanwork Exchange Thing), for TrepidationChance with the prompts shizuo/izaya and orchestra au.  
> It was fun writing this, and I hope you'll have as much fun reading as I did writing! :)

Really, Shizuo’s too busy for this shit.

It’s opening night and there’s a crowd and everyone’s talking and being loud and the last thing he needs is the damn annoying concertmaster hovering over his shoulders.

Yet, there he is, deciding that the small booth inside the stage door is somehow the best place to tune his violin.

And if it weren’t for Tom, eyebrows raised towards them with palpable concern, he really might have flipped the desk by now.

“Must you?” Shizuo sighed, burying his head in his hands.

An untuned violin, in general, is bad enough. It’s another sort of hell altogether when the violin is placed right beside your ear, and there’s a sneaking suspicion that the violinist is playing so loudly on purpose.

Orihara Izaya shrugs nonchalantly in response, without a break in his playing. His grin is a good indicator of why he’s not actually fiddling with the tuning pegs.

With an exaggerated sigh, Tom lifts himself from the seat in the corner. “I’m going backstage.” He puts a hand on Shizuo’s shoulder as he passes. “Try not to kill him, alright?”

Shizuo nods with an annoyed grunt. Izaya only laughs as he resumes an atrocious rendition of _Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars_.

Shizuo probably would have strangled the other man, but Tom’s words are still fresh in his ears. And he needed this job; even with his connections to Tom, the stage manager, there’s only so much damage he can wreck before he might lose his job – and considering how it’s only his second week at the Ikebukuro theatre, he doesn’t really want to risk it yet.

“You know anyone outside the theatre can probably hear you right now?” Shizuo raises an eyebrow at Izaya. “Is your off-key playing really the impression you want to leave?”

Izaya shrugs, though at least, he finally drop the violin from his shoulders. “Who cares, if anyone asks, I’ll just say it’s just the poor stage door keeper trying at an instrument he has no talent for.”

Whatever document that had been lying on the table had better not have been important – as it’s now a crumpled heap in Shizuo’s hands.

But Izaya wasn’t finished. He taps a finger to his lowered chin, looking exaggeratedly in thought. “But perhaps that would be too much of a compliment for you – that playing is much too good to be you.”

The slight buzzing in the back of Shizuo’s mind was slight and subtle at first, but then as Izaya’s irritable smirk widened, the buzz overtook Shizuo in such a way that suddenly, perhaps his job wasn’t as important as getting rid of that smirk after all.

He’s ready to decorate the concertmaster’s face with a few bruises, one hand holding Izaya up by the collar, when the door slams open.

“Oh,” the voice is much too chirpy, with a mock scandalised tone.

Shizuo whips his head with a glare to the young blonde at the door, whom still has a hand on his mouth with exaggerated surprise. “What?” he snarled.

“Well,” Kida shrugs his shoulder, “I really hate to interrupt, but I’m going to need my key if I’m to leave you guys to do your thing.” He pauses, and Shizuo spots the wicked glint in his eyes even before he adds, “Although I reckon you should just get a room. Man, you guys are way too keen on pda.”

“What the fuck,” Shizuo snaps, pushing Izaya away. A loud crash follows the impact of man to drawers, and in the silence that follows, he can hear the kid’s long intake.

Izaya lets out a dry laugh, “I’m concerned for you, kiddo, if you think this is pda.”

Shizuo isn’t stupid – he can see the silent exchange between their gazes. It’s just that he doesn’t care, and he turns his back from them to fetch Kida’s dressing room key. He throws it at the kid when he finds it.

“Now get out of here,” he growls. He hesitates only a moment before he adds, “I mean both of you.”

Perhaps with the presence of Kida, Izaya had found a new interest. Regardless, the man obediently picks up his violin and heads out with Kida. Shizuo’s gaze lingers on the backside of the two, walking up the steps and disappearing down the narrow corridor of the theatre.

Everything is uneventful afterwards, the rest of the musicians come in, sign in, and make their way up without much to say. Shizuo finds himself taping his pen to the table, at a gradually increasing pace, his foot tapping along sometime after the half-hour call as he impatiently stares at the clock. He’s not even waiting for the end of his shift anymore – he realised some time ago that he was actually waiting for the performance to start, and that he cared for it.

Shizuo had never been a guy for music – he tolerated it, but he just didn’t see the appeal. But ever since he started listening to the Ikebukuro Orchestra play, he found himself enjoying the music, and regretting that he could never be able to watch from his booth by the stage door. But he could always recognise Izaya’s solo, and while he’d die before admitting it to the man in question, Shizuo found himself sitting up during those sections.

It wasn’t fair that such a demonic man could create such beautiful, angelic music. It wasn’t fair that Shizuo’s favourite solo part was the one played by Izaya. It’s not fair that this is a language that Shizuo would never understand, in which the only time he touched an instrument was when he took the snare drum from his brother’s drum kit and threw it. It’s not fair that Shizuo’s stuck in this tiny, cramped booth having a semi-existential crisis when Izaya’s out there, showered by praise and applause when, in reality, he’s just a jerk.

Yet, with the music drifting in from the stage, it’s easier to picture Izaya’s face without wanting to punch him. And it’s a momentary peace that Shizuo will savour every night in their two-week engagement here.

Even if, naturally, it ends all too soon.

It’s a faster process getting everyone out of the theatre, than in, once the performance finishes. Everyone just wants to go home, or to a pub, or wherever, and Shizuo doesn’t really care as long as they get out of the building so he can go home himself.

Naturally, Izaya is the last one out, lingering by Shizuo’s booth with Kida and a smirk on his face.

“What do you want?” he snaps. Internally, he’s trying a mantra, repeatedly telling himself it’s not worth it now to lose his temper, the damage reports are too much effort to fill in this late in the night.

A thousand thoughts seems to fly across Izaya’s face as his smile falters a little, but before he could say anything that would surely uncap Shizuo’s temper, Tom pokes his head from around the corner.

“A bunch of us are having drinks to celebrate opening night – you wanna come?”

“Yeah! Sure! We’ll all go!” Kida slings an arm around Izaya, the momentum pushing them a step forward so that Shizuo has even less space in the small area. 

Shizuo clenches his fist at the thought, but it’s Tom, so he reluctantly gestures acceptance, even as he thinks of his bed waiting for him at home. Deflated, he turns to gather the sign off sheets and packs away the keys, pushing the three lingering men out to wait outside as he does a final tour of the theatre to lock down the venue.

Which turns out to be a horrible mistake, leaving them outside by themselves, and Shizuo finds this out too late as he gets out to find Izaya taunting two drunk men outside.

You’d think Izaya would know not to egg on drunkards who have no appreciation for music, but instead, he’s laughing at them, openly insulting their ignorance, and Shizuo has no idea how Izaya’s survived this long when you consider how annoying his smug little face is.

It’s only a matter of time when they throw the first punch, and Shizuo feels his own anger boiling again at the thought that someone else would get to throw the first punch when he’s been wanting to do it for so long.

Perhaps why, in the end, he’s the one who loses it first, and the stage door is in pieces as it falls heavily onto the two drunks.

In that moment, everything else stops. Any onlookers who had dared to stay has their phones out, now, while others less brave have deserted these streets. Tom, as he has been doing more and more recently in Shizuo’s presence, has a palm to his forehead.

“Oh shit,” Kida says quietly. But it feels louder, in the midst of dropped jaws and halted breaths around them.

And then Izaya’s there by his side, laughing as he grabs Shizuo with one hand, and Kida with his other, and runs down the street.

“Come on,” he says once they pause around the corner. “I’m sure Tom will deal with the damage. Let’s go get drinks.”

It’s surprising how quickly Kida and Izaya swich topics, immediately changing their focus to where a good local bar is.

Shizuo just feels annoyed.

“Oi, I meant to hit you too,” he says to Izaya.

Izaya raises a brow, turning away from Kida. His smirk is back as he props his hands on his hips. “Good thing you didn’t.”

When Shizuo scrunches his brows and shows no understanding, Izaya sighs loudly. “You know you’re unemployed, now, right?”

Shizuo clicks his tongue, glaring. If only there was a vending machine close by.

“Wait wait wait – that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, though,” Izaya presses on. “Because now, feeling utterly grateful for your sacrifice, I’m going to offer you a job! Good thing we’ve got a vacancy open for the concertmaster’s assistant,” Izaya’s grin grows, as does the sticky premonition for disaster in Shizuo’s chest. “So, you can help with, organising my music, carrying my instrument- wait never mind, I don’t trust you that much – but perhaps suitcase for when we travel, bringing coffee, that sort of stuff – sounds fun, doesn’t it?!”

Shizuo gives up on the vending machine and settles on the street lamp a few meters away, instead.

With a yelp, Izaya grabs Kida’s shoulders and shoves the kid between them. Kida looks almost apologetic as he shrugs his shoulder.

“No, but really,” Kida has his arms out, as if calming an animal. “Our orchestra could do with an extra production assistant; the job’s pretty much yours with the recommendation of the concertmaster.”

Shizuo lowers the lamppost from above his head. It does get heavy, after all, when his temper calms.

He stares at the concertmaster, currently forgoing his dignity to hide behind their kid trumpeter. He probably does need a job pretty soon, and he has grown a little attached to this local orchestra, after all. But the prospect of seeing Izaya every day? Or at least on a regular basis?

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to throw up.

But it’s a job offer, nevertheless, and he’s running out of those.

But Izaya?!?!?!??!?!

In the end, Shizuo looks away as he grunts an affirmative. “Let me think about it. Perhaps I’ll give it a try.”

If only for a while, before he finds another job. After all, if it’s only going to be temporary, perhaps it’s a good thing to be in proximity with that smug son of a bitch on a regular basis – maybe one day, he’ll finally land a hit on him. Hopefully, one day soon.

“Great!” Izaya grins, slinging an arm each around the two of them, leading them down the street. “So, on the topic of drinks – I do know this one really nice place. But I don’t know – it feels like the type of place Shizu-chan would get us kicked out of within the hour.”

Shizuo clenches his fist. Maybe if he punches the hell out of Izaya now, all his troubles could go away?

He glances towards Kida and sighs. How does anyone tolerate Izaya Orihara and not lose their mind? Someone really needs to pass their techniques to him.

If he ends up taking that job with the orchestra, he’s going to need it. And at this rate, it does mean he’s going to need it.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the lack of development - I didn't know where to take it with only ~2000 words!  
> I promise my next one of these I'll organise it avoiding exam period so I can put in more time and effort!!  
> Hope you liked it anyway, and y'all have a nice Valentines' Day, whether with your SO or with your ships <3


End file.
